


Wildflower

by GhostClimber



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Based On A Bon Jovi Song, Dorks in Love, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love/Hate, M/M, Not Beta Read, Song Inspired, in which Joe is a lovesick puppy, introspective, strange kind of love, we die like in the love hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostClimber/pseuds/GhostClimber
Summary: Joe and Cherry just woke up.Joe thinks about their weird relationship.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	Wildflower

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my first fic here and I wrote it while panicking and saying "I don't know anything about them, am I craaazyyy?"  
> Yes I am.  
> Totally madhatter-crazy.  
> Anyway, I love this pairing and a stranger requested a fic, SO I guess I was morally required to comply (ohhh my weak excuses).  
> And thank God I finally found a way to use this song (Wildflower by Bon Jovi), I wanted to make a fic from it but no pairing was fitting enough.  
> I hope you'll like it, kudos and comments are very much welcome!  
> XOXO

Joe woke up to an empty bed.  
Cherry's side was still warm, so he presumably had just gotten up. Joe caressed the wrinkles of the blanket that still held his body's warmth and maybe smelled or maybe imagined to smell his delicate perfume.  
He glanced at the alarm clock and found out that it was almost six in the morning; he would have to get up soon, so he kicked the blankets away and put on an old sweatshirt. He finger-brushed his hair, went to the kitchen and turned on the fire beneath the kettle, then he started to explore the house: Cherry was as free as the night breeze, sometimes he stayed, sometimes he didn't.  
Carla was charging, plugged into the outlet of the living room, so Joe went to the place where Cherry certainly was: the balcony, facing on an old larch forest.  
He was there, glancing into the dark that was merely strained by the first light of the dawn: jokingly, Joe had once asked him if he woke up to talk to ghosts, because his silence and his stillness reminded him of a calm house cat that suddenly waked up and starts to stare at an empty corner. Cherry had raised an eyebrow with a mysterious aura and had replied with a cryptic “who knows”.  
-I'm making tea.- Joe quietly said. Cherry turned around to face him and drowsily smiled: -Thanks.  
Without saying anything else, Joe leaned on the balcony's handrail and stared at the shadowy forest as well, searching for whatever Cherry was able to see. He didn't find anything but some bare movements in the undergrowth, maybe a hare looking for food, maybe a fox.  
-Look there.- Cherry said, pointing to a tree with a slight nod. Joe squinted; a vague shadow was rhythmically moving, barely enlightened by the yellowish halo of a still lit lamppost.  
-It's a woodpecker.- Cherry explained, -Reminds me of that Langa. Snow.  
-You can see the bird has light blue hair?  
-You always have to be an idiot, you really are hopeless.- Cherry sighed, -I was talking about determination. He's there, pecking with his sharp beak for hours and hours until he manages to make a hole in a tree. That Langa is just the same, he insists until he succeeds.  
-Mh.- Joe muttered, unsure on how to reply.  
-Reminds me of you.  
-Should I be jealous?- Joe asked, elbowing him.  
-First of all, I like my men to be more mature, besides I think that his friend, Reki, would tear me to pieces if only I dared.  
-Adam is daring quite a lot.  
-Quite too much, I'd say.- Cherry nodded, -I'm starting to wonder whether I should intervene somehow.- Joe looked up at him.  
A light breeze was moving his hair, tied up in a sloppy ponytail, and the first rays of the rising sun were reflecting themselves on the lenses of his glasses.  
He was gorgeous.  
Gorgeous and dangerous, he was, much more than people could think. He had some strong moral principles on which he didn't compromise, his ideas were clear and he had the guts to defend them.  
Joe suddenly wanted to make love once again, as if they hadn't made it all night long. Cherry's dualism excited him: so delicate, a flower that looked ready to be destroyed by the first huff of wind, by the first stream of rain running down the gutter. But, looking closer, it took very little to understand his inner resilience: a small flower, of course, but tenacious enough to decide to bloom from a microscopic fissure in the pavement, a thin stem that all alone fought to destroy the entire civilisation, digging and breaking the asphalt with the mere strenght of its own tiny roots.  
Joe knew that most of the people saw Cherry more like a rose, misunderstanding him, and he also knew that Cherry tried to be misunderstood on purpose: he needed no particular cares, but he loved to be seen as complicated, difficult, out of reach, because that way he kept anyone he didn't want around at a distance. He lied, he purposely lied, he hid himself behind that black mask that Joe had always seen as an epitome of his entire being: the colour of anonymity that refrained people from coming closer, but adherent enough to allow anyone who was brave enough to do so to look past it.  
Joe recalled their first big argument, as usual originated by a senseless small thing: they had yelled at each other for hours, they almost came to blows, then Joe had left never to come back again.  
His resolution had lasted exactly two hours and a half, then he had come back to Cherry, almost on his knees, ready to beg for his forgiveness: he already missed him like oxygen.  
Cherry had opened the door, didn't give him any time to speak and had dragged him to his bedroom, where he had explained him with his body that they would always be like fire and gasoline, dangerous alone, explosive together. And while he sunk into him, Joe had felt sure that they could be able to burn and destroy the whole universe, if only they had decided to.  
-I think we better see what happens, for now. If Adam goes too far, we'll intervene.- Joe said, answering Cherry's implicit request for an opinion. After years of knowing each other, he could read the secrets that were hidden between the lines of his partner, and he was able to understand when it was necessary to speak out.  
He didn't always respected his rhythm, for mere fun: he loved to scratch the surface of his elegant impassiveness, like a mischievous child has fun trying to eradicate the wild flowers from the fissures of the pavements. When Cherry's small but powerful roots emerged, carrying with themselves dirt, gravel and mud, opening a gateway towards the underneath ground, Joe was sure that he was the only propellant who could force his seducing determination to click. And pushing him to show himself in front of other people, at the restaurant or at the S, was an almost cathartic act of possession, as if he was announcing: “he's powerful and he's mine”.  
Cherry meditated about his answer, then he slightly nodded. He was already wearing an elegant blue kimono that hid his slender body, and Joe looked at the living room clock to see if there was time for another round in bed, to gain the energy that was necessary to make him survive through the day.  
There wasn't.  
The kettle began to whistle, and Cherry went to the kitchen before Joe. He poured the hot water in a teapot, leaving the lid open to let it slightly cool down, he prepared the tea for the infusion and he sunk it in, checking the time. Joe observed him, loving the movements of his shoulders under the silk of the kimono; his slender muscles reminded him every second of the hidden power that lied beneath his skin, ready to be released in a flood of aggressivity, so vulgar and so distant from his elegance and yet so himself, so Cherry, so Kaoru.  
Cherry poured the tea in two cups and brought them at the kitchen table. They drank in silence for a while, then Joe asked: -Will you drop by at the restaurant, today?  
-I don't think so. We'll meet at the S.  
-Mh.  
-What's that, you already miss me? What a pussy...  
-HEY! Hear who's speaking, the one who spends hours washing his hair!  
-At least mine don't look like a nest built by a drunk bird.  
-HOW DO YOU...- Joe took a deep breath. He wasn't the only one who had fun provoking the other, and knowing Cherry he knew that, if he let him go on, the other would have driven him mad only to leave him high and dry until late at night.  
-I really have to go now.- Cherry said, hiding a malicious smile behind the cup, from which he drank the last sip of tea.  
Joe got up with him, watched while Cherry unplugged Carla from the outlet and carefully rolled up the charger cord, then he led him to the door.  
On the doorstep, he grabbed him by the collar of his kimono and aggressively kissed him; Cherry responded to the kiss by protruding his tongue in his mouth, and after a brief fight for supremacy, that ended like always with a solemn draw, he stepped back.  
-You dick head, you creased my kimono again.  
-Oh, I'm sorry, His Majesty.- Cherry gave him a half smile and a nod and he went away.  
Joe looked at him walking along the path and he thought that his fans would have left him in no time for Cherry, if they only knew what he was hiding behind his black mask. He thought Cherry could have anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers, yet he had chosen him. Maybe because Joe had understood that showering him with attentions only suffocated him and made him want to run away, maybe because Joe understood that his swearing during sex was his way of saying he loved him, maybe because Joe was just another weed and as such he was the only right partner.  
He looked at the clock, counting the hours dividing him from their next meeting, and as usual he wondered how could he survive to the dryness until Cherry would come back to cast his cool shadow over him again, regretting not being able to enchain him to himself.  
They had never said any conventional word of love to each other, they walked around each other and only shared the present moment; the past, to Cherry, was nothing to talk about, just a memory, vague and sometimes painful, and the future was but an accessory. Joe had accepted since long before to only chase the moment, whether it was an argument, a quiet conversation at the S or a savage sexual intercourse, flavoured by foul words that sounded like a sex magick ritual where they tied to each other once again.  
He went back in and smiled, pouring what was left of the tea in the sink: that idiot drank green tea like there was no tomorrow, while Joe liked coffee the most. He prepared a cup of it, pretending not to notice that the water left in the kettle had already cooled down, and he prepared himself to face the day.  
After all, despite their lack of promises, he knew that Cherry was to come back and that he was to stay, in his own way.  
Because Cherry really woke up to talk to the ghosts of his past while Joe slept, and because Joe knew and didn't judge him.  
Nobody knew.  
And it was right.


End file.
